


To you under the window

by Heater2098



Category: Deemo (Video Games), 신의 탑 | Tower of God
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, POV First Person, no tags, tags will spoil stuff so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heater2098/pseuds/Heater2098
Summary: The last thing Khun remembers is that he’s falling from a window from a ceiling, nothing else. And later, he realises that he has forgotten his own name. Now all he wants to do is go home, wherever that might be.To find his way out, he requests the help of a mysterious man named Viole to play the music on the piano for his escape. But slowly, he finds himself attached to Viole and decides, wherever the window leads to, maybe outside, we’ll escape together.
Relationships: Khun Aguero Agnis/Twenty-Fifth Baam | Jyu Viole Grace
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone that likes the game deemo reads this... sorry for tainting it with my trash writing?
> 
> Basically, I sobbed playing deemo. If any of you plan to play the game this might contain spoilers? Also, if any of you like rhythm games you might wanna play it first :) I recommend.
> 
> P.S  
> If any of you read my other stuff... I write because of inspo and when it runs out I don’t try to churn it out I’m sorry!! I’ll only write when it comes back, I’m sorry...

I look up, a window portraying the daylight starts shrinking smaller and smaller, my stomach sinking as I slowly come to the realisation that I’m falling. Expecting to hit a hard surface, I shut my eyes. But instead of hard ground, I fall into arms, hitting someone’s flat chest.

Being softly placed on my feet, I look at my saviour. The man is ganglier looking than I first thought, my image of him being stronger, especially because he could catch me from such a height. The mystery man’s eyes are covered by his long pitch black bangs, his hair in a long black ponytail, and wearing an all black formal suit. The man was like a silhouette, cloaked in blacks and even darker blacks which don’t even reflect a trace of light. Even his skin was such a dark black that I wonder if he even had any human features until the light hit just right to see the shape of a nose and a mouth.

“Who are you?” I ask, but receive no answer from the man. Turning my eyes up to the window I fell from, I decide to speak my intentions instead. “I want to go home.” I say, like I can remember what that is. 

The man still doesn’t respond with words, but gives me a small nod in response to show he’s listening at least.

I eye my surroundings for the first time, I stand on a small rock island amidst the pool of water, metallic walls shaped in an ornate tree shape surround us and judging by the height of the walls, it would be very dangerous to climb recklessly. How in the world can I get home? A white immaculate piano stands in the island’s centre, a piano sheet already resting in it. I walk to the sheet to look at it properly.

“Viole?” I read the name of the composer. The ponytailed man points to himself and tilts his head. “That’s your name?” 

Viole nods. 

“Thanks for saving me, my name is...” I slowly come to the realisation, I didn’t only forget my home, but also everything about myself, including my name. “Never mind.” 

Viole shrugs. And as expected of me, a confused person trapped in a room with a mute man, things quickly become awkward.

“...So you play?” I ask, conversationally.

Viole nods again, sitting on the piano seat, and gestures next to him. Understanding the message, I sit next to him. Viole then takes out a sparse, simple sheet from behind the complicated sheet, and gestures between myself and the sheet. “Oh? I don’t play.”

Viole still rests it in front of me, pointing at a note, then demonstrating it on the piano. He does this numerous times until I sigh and rest my hand on the piano.

I play the first few notes on the sheet, and I don’t expect the classical melody that comes from Viole as he plays. Before I knew it, I was smiling, Viole and I creating a melody together, even though I’m playing the babied version. I have no idea why I’m so comfortable around the man, just that I feel like it’s ‘meant to be’. When the song ends, I feel strangely saddened and irritated, wanting to play the keys with Viole again. Just as I’m going to request a harder challenge, something takes my attention instead. Behind the piano, a sprout emerges from stone as if growing from the music we made together. 

Then I have an idea, my final hope really, to climb the tree it would grow into and escape. “Viole, let’s keep playing to keep growing the tree, and escape!”

Viole looks at me, mouth slightly parted before nodding in agreement. It’s great! After all, without him, I may never get back home.

“Can we play again? Something harder this time, that was way too easy.” Viole barely visibly purses his lips and looks at me unsurely. Taking his time, behind the simplified sheet was something a step up from what I was doing before. He set it in front of me, looking unsure again. 

I rest my hands on the piano, beginning to play again. Viole makes his first sound I’ve ever heard from him, an exasperated sigh, before following my lead with his way more complicated part. Again, my heart leapt in joy, feeling light. And once again, when we stop, I want to play again. I know somewhere, deep in my heart, that this isn’t me. Taking joy in such meaningless things such as music, but maybe Viole’s presence made me feel this way. I also know that thinking of something so cheesy isn’t me, but I couldn’t help it.

As the final notes ring around the room, I notice the sapling a few meters taller and the loud screech of metal against metal. Turning my attention to the noise, I watch the left door open by itself. Viole moves from his place on the seat, and all of a sudden I felt unanchored. Like he’s leaving me for good. I know it’s preposterous, but my heart still beats audibly in my chest. I try to act calm and walk quickly behind him, trying to act as if I wasn’t deadly scared that the only person I know was running away from me, like I wasn’t trying to cling to him too much by not letting him out of my sight.

I enter the new room, a cramped yet tall circular library room walled by books in an elegant arch shape, yellow lamps resting on tables, and on the opposite side of me two decorative hanging bonsai and a portrait of an orange tree, large books littering the patterned metal floor, and a desk in the centre where a hooded white robed, metal masked man crosses his arms from where he once was reading his opened book. Viole sits on the humongous book on the left and pulls a book from the pile to read.

Unexpectedly, the masked man opens his mouth to speak. Honestly, I kind of expected everyone here to be mute judging from Viole, and says, “Can you two stop playing? It’s so loud.”

Then, I find that I really don’t like this masked man. Judging from his first words even, I don’t like him. 

Viole played perfectly, so it’s clearly a diss directed towards me. “Excuse me?! My playing was perfect!”

“You are excused.”

I’ll fucking throttle him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get new music! But Khun’s stubborn so...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be trying to incorporate a bit of deemo -reborn- with mysteries and the like but my iPad’s not compatible. I’ll try to create some new mysteries...
> 
> And yeah, I made an error last chap. Pretty small, but an error nevertheless. The island isn’t a rock, but a huge tree stump. Whoopsies!

I really don’t like the masked man, but I end up spending a lot of time with the asshole when Viole begins spending more of his off time in the newly opened library than the piano room. That’s when I realise, Viole and the masked man are close, despite not having a conversation between themselves once. Dare I say, Viole and the masked man were closer than Viole and I, and I refuse to admit that I’m jealous, but I really am. 

What’s so good about him?

It pisses me off more when Viole points to us with both of his hands before linking the fingers together, miming that we’re similar. If there’s a saying that opposites attract, we’re too similar to get along. Like how the same magnet being put together would repel each other, it just doesn’t work.

Despite the masked man’s protests, I walk up to Viole and ask, “Can we play again?”

Viole’s featureless dark face turns up to face mine and nods slowly in agreement.

“Didn’t I tell you two to stop playing?” The masked man growls.

“And you thought I’d listen?” I snort in response. 

Taking Viole’s hand to speed him up, I speed walk out the room. I don’t know why I catalogue this in my brain, but Viole is wearing leather gloves and the information just keeps on repeating itself to me for absolutely no reason. Is this... attraction? Am I seriously feeling attraction toward a featureless shadow? I look at Viole, and once Viole notices, he tilts his head to question me.  ~~ Fucking adorable. ~~ What’s wrong with me? Adorable? He doesn’t even have a face.

Thank God that I don’t think of the same topic for long, because as I walk toward the piano, mysteriously, I notice in the pool of water there are sheets of music tied in scrolls floating around. Sheets of music I don’t remember being there before. Picking one of them up, I notice the lack of wetness of the paper. When I untie the bow, the ink is miraculously intact, and now I wonder what type of ink that they used. Reading the composer, it’s once again Viole. What miracle ink did Viole use?

“Who stole and put these here?” I ask Viole instead. He’s still holding my hand, dragged for the ride. Viole only gives me a shrug in response. 

The next sheet I spot is further from the island, and now I know that I can’t possibly keep my shoes impeccable forever by jumping from the library to the stump, I have to accept my fate of wet socks. I still hesitate though, and ponder if new sheet music will be worth it. 

After a few seconds, Viole lets go of my hand and walks to the pool himself. Instead of sinking in the water as I expect him to, he walks on the water like some sort of deity. Viole turns around and holds out his hand for me to join him, I hesitate unknowing whether or not it’s a species thing until Viole steals my hand himself and pulls me to the pool. It feels like I’m walking on tile, albeit wet tile, but it’s a hard surface for liquid.

Honestly, I don’t know why we both had to walk to it, but then again, Violeseems kind of desolate. He always seems to follow my word, not doing anything productive without me. I’ve never heard him play music by himself, as he only plays when I play with him, so far at least. Without me he just reads the same large book, which I’m now far too curious about. If the sheet was in front of him, who knows if he’ll pick it up at all.

Once I pick up the sheet I place it in Viole’s unoccupied hand and begin to make the travel back to the stump. Once my feet are once again on something solid, not liquid, I notice that the sheets are stacked, and I very much doubt the new pages would be able to fit without slipping. Once Viole looks at my face, he lets go of my hand and walks away in the direction of the library. Once again, I feel that sinking in my stomach that only stops once he returns with a folder.

Watching him sort all the sheets, I come to the realisation that I saw some more sheets in the library, but absolutely refuse to enter the same room as the cloaked bastard again. It can wait, we’ll open the room on the right then it just means more music for us, I just need patience.

Once he’s finished, he pats the seat next to him. I sit next to him and before Viole can turn the page, I ask, “Can I play the same song as before? I know you have a harder version.” At that, Viole seems to hesitate, again. 

Honestly, I asked for this. He doesn’t have to hesitate like this. 

When he brings it out, Viole sets it in front of me and begins playing first. Slowly, I realise why he was so hesitant. I never had a good understanding of music, as much as I can tell of my very clumsy playing, but if the first one was easy and the other a tad harder, this one leapt several hurdles as I was left in Viole’s dust. In the end, I could only hit my head against the keys in frustration of utterly failing. Viole tries to cheer me up, but frankly, I’m down in the dumps.

“What the... that’s the same song, but it was so hard...” I grumble, even though I should’ve known that it would be harder when I asked for harder.

Viole seems to be at a loss of how to comfort me. Suddenly, he walks off to the library and returns with the masked man’s pen. He begins to write on my sheets a number. “8?” I ask. Viole nods and then points toward the sheet I had played prior to the library room’s opening, a messy 4 scrawled on it. “Oh, difficulties?” This time he nods erratically. How does a featureless man act so cute without any creepy factor whatsoever?

He shuffles through the sheets, changing them one by one. Once he’s done, he reaches out to turn the sheet for me to show the other options, but I grasp his wrist before he could. “No, I’m going to finish this. No matter what.” I chuckle, determined. Is it just me, or is Viole’s face a little paler than usual?

Although I said that, it doesn’t necessarily mean my playing performance increased at all for the next 5 times I play it. Slowly, but surely, I begin to get accustomed to the speed that I would need to play. So far my playing only reaches an 85 if I graded my performance in percentages at least, but I needed 100. I would only accept that much. Just as I’m about to ask to play the same song again, I turn to Viole and accidentally glance at Viole’s sheet. I feel my hands and wrists suddenly ache, adrenaline wearing off in face of the monstrosity of whatever Viole has been playing so far.

Coughing awkwardly, I ask, “...How about we rest for now?” To try to cover up that I’m tired and slightly worried about Viole’s wellbeing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, just kinda need this chapter to serve as a bridge between the first and the next chap because there’s no way a door would open that easily so it’s sorta filler??

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
